


something fearful (something mysterious)

by ERNest



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Apples, Gen, POV Second Person, Poverty, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest
Summary: Everybody can't have houses to be born in; that would be too handy. But Champmathieudidcome from somewhere...





	something fearful (something mysterious)

     i.  
Your daughter is a laundress.

Her husband has died so back home she flies to you. Thankfully there is no child which would only represent another mouth to feed; as it is the two of you can barely support yourselves. When he was alive he used to beat her and she took it as her due. You will be glad the man is gone, since she cannot.

She comes home exhausted every day and when she tells you what her work is like you have to weep. Your tears cannot soften her hands — the cold water sinks right in and cracks the skin, and the lye bath is worse. But she is a good girl, very quiet and not very happy.

Your daughter is dead too, now.

  
     ii.  
Working iron for wheels wears a man out fast.

You were used up by forty but you kept working because there was no choice, and now you are fifty-three. Everything is harder as you get older and then you get called an old beast on top of it. They pay you as little as they can, and they get away with it because you _are_ less useful and less productive.

No matter how cold it gets, you work outside, under sheds if you’re lucky, because you have to have the room.

  
     iii.  
The branch is just lying in the middle of the mud-yellowed road so you pick it up.

You think only of the meals it will make, for you haven’t eaten for several days. The first apple will be yesterday’s dinner and today’s breakfast at once, and the others you will save until you can’t bear the hunger any longer. The land belongs to someone but surely the road belongs to everyone. The bark is rough like the hands of your daughter, and you think about that as you walk — all you have lost and all you have found.

  
     iv.  
You are arrested for pilfering apples.

The next three months are spent in jail being pushed around by everyone and getting told who you are and where you’re from. All these names are new to you, and then you are said to be a second offender. If being poor is a crime, you hardly know one innocent man.

Three big men you’ve never seen before come in and swear up and down that you were in jail together. Their words cannot be held as sworn testimony but it is still enough to damn you. Another man, a policeman who stands tall and straight as if _he’s_ been wrought from iron, barely even glances at you as he repeats that he recognizes you perfectly. His certainty almost makes you believe that you are a convict, hardened and feared, and that you merely forgot. Still you say that you are not Jean Valjean.

  
     v.  
Even your defense counsel thinks you are an idiot, and, well, perhaps you are. He keeps telling you to just speak the truth and it may go easier for you, but the things he urges you to admit are falsehoods, so it’s unclear where that leaves you. In an ever more bewildering world it seems safest to just stay quiet.

The trial drags on for hours and the spectators seem more concerned than you. It is impossible to grasp the words flying over your head and everyone seems to have made up their minds already, so you just have to wait and see what will become of you. When you are not gazing blankly at your hands or the ceiling you notice that the prosecutor is a very bad man. His words are long and impressive, but at his heart he is a bully and just pushes you around yelling, “Answer!”

  
     vi.  
Everything repeats and circles round again.

Arguments that didn’t make sense the first time they happened around you are no clearer the second time. And again you are told, “Answer!” You hardly even feel like yourself anymore, what with everyone calling you by a different name and telling you of all the attempted robberies you are supposed to have made in the last three decades. Even the courtroom where you sit does not seem like something that could happen to you, but here you are.

A murmur passes through the courtroom in stages when your double stands up to announce himself, like a great serpent has taken a breath and released it. The man is better dressed than you, better fed, but once you look past the surface differences, it is like looking into a mirror. You don’t know what to make of it and clearly neither do the great men around you, but you believe he is who he says while they are still insisting the mysterious mayor is simply ill and should lie down.

You didn’t see it at first, but he has more fear in his eye than you do. You are familiar with the sensation and can easily recognize it in a face so like your own. Everything has been a dream lately so you cannot be surprised anymore, nor fear new developments.

Another line of questioning begins, but not directed at you and still you cannot begin to follow what is said. At last the white-haired man takes his leave, saying he has things to do if they are not going to arrest him right at this moment. The serpent inhales again and eventually someone remembers that you are still sitting there. After an eternity more of deliberation the presiding judge informs you that you are free to go.

  
     vii.  
You understand nothing, but that all men are mad.

No longer something to be judged under the law, you are told to go. Go where? You have no daughter, you have no job, and even if you did have something waiting for you in the chasm that is Paris, it would be a long tiring journey to get there. While in prison for stealing food, you received a meal every day — the lowest possible quality, but still something to eat. Now you must find a way to survive and if you can’t afford to pay you can afford even less to steal.

“Champmathieu, Champmathieu!” someone calls as you turn to leave a place you are no longer wanted to find one that might want you better. It is a surprise to hear your name since lately everyone wants to tell you it is not yours. You take another few steps but he keeps calling until you stop to look at the voice.  
As it turns out, the trial was held at city hall because the proper courthouse is under repair. The clerk who called out to you says he recalls saying that they could use another man on the job. He writes a note explaining everything and tells you to bring it to the courthouse tomorrow morning, where the construction foreman will ensure you find good work.

The presiding judge had a crucifix on the wall behind him, but God was absent when you were tried. Maybe, though, He is here outside the courtroom in the form of a second chance.


End file.
